War is peace, freedom is slavery, ignorance is strength.
dirt enthusiast

@theartofmadeline
d e v o n
art blog(derogatory)

⁂
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
RMH
One Nice Bug Per Day
DEAR READER
almost home

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
Not today Justin
YOU ARE THE REASON

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Kaledo Art
Stranger Things
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taylor price

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@jadeseadragon
War is peace, freedom is slavery, ignorance is strength.
one fight at a time
Follow the money behind America's data center boom. Track 2,300+ projects, PAC spending, and the politicians who sign off on it.
Reasons for hope: Lots of amazing people did a ton of work to make this fantastic, fully interactive resource available - because no matter how bleak things seem, there are millions, and millions of people doing everything they can to protect both the world and their own communities.
You can use this to view and subscribe to updates, project statuses, and for at least some of them even whole dossiers. This is an amazing resource, I highly recommend checking it out
金地院/紫陽花参道 // The Path with Hydrangea Flowers
The International Phonetic Alphabet consonants found in English, with keywords and relevant parts of the mouth highlighted and colour-coded. (Source.)
Pronouncing each of these in sequence is a very strange and amusing physical sensation, and I highly recommend it.
haha look it’s where those noises live in your dang FACE, TRY IT
Very helpful actually
Jacques-Laurent Agasse (Swiss, 1767-1849, active in Britain from 1800), Group of Whelps Bred between a Lion and a Tigress (Liger Cubs), 1825, oil on canvas.
Inscribed in black paint, upper left: "Bred at Windsor Octr 1824. | Painted when six-months old"
This undated photo provided by Veronica Roberson in June 2026 shows her grandson, Kohen Wiley, of Senatobia, Mississippi.
Family lays One-Year-Old Kohen Wiley To Rest After Police Murdered Him While He Sat In His Moms Lap
Jun 28
"A minor property dispute in Mississippi escalated into lethal force against a family vehicle. Kohen Wiley should still be alive.
On June 14, 2026, Senatobia police responded to a shoplifting call at a Walmart in Mississippi. They fired into a vehicle in the parking lot, killing one-year-old Kohen Kartier Wiley and critically wounding the driver.
Kohen was sitting on his mother’s lap. He had nothing to do with any alleged theft. The family states the diapers were paid for and they were leaving the store. His mother tried to show officers that her baby was inside the car.
Police opened fire anyway.
The Official Claim
The officer claimed the vehicle was accelerating toward him. That claim does not change the fact that deadly force was used on a car containing a one-year-old child over a minor property dispute.
This was not a tragic accident. It was police escalation of a low-level call into lethal force against a family vehicle with an infant inside."
Raining buckets
Edvard Munch, The Sun
Today I start my ninth decade on earth. It’s astounding and distressing, but I suppose it’s better than the alternative. In his latter years, my father would always answer my weekly phone question, “How are you, Dad?” with a brisk “Still here!” Several of my joints ache, I can’t remember shit, I can no longer do 20 pushups at a clip, several good friends have passed, my bald spot is claiming more territory, and I can’t hear very well (especially in restaurants). But, hey, I’m still here. And hardly alone. All 1946 boomers still here are turning 80. More babies were born in 1946 than in any other year of American history up to then. Dolly Parton is one. She has been 80 since January 19 of this year. I still haven’t met her. Meeting her has been on my bucket list for six decades. She’s my height. We have similar values. I’ve been in love with her since I was 15, but so far, zilch. When I was a small boy, my grandma Frances was courted by a man named Jack Hirsch, who was then 80. I had never before encountered someone as old as Jack. I was scared to speak loudly in his presence, or sneeze, or cough, for fear he’d fall over and die. I remember thinking he could be Methuselah (who, according to the Bible, lived until the ripe old age of 969). What happens after you hit a ripe old age? Do you ripen until you rot? Three score and ten is the number of years of life set out in the Bible. Modern technology and Big Pharma add at least a decade, bringing us 1946 boomers to where we are now. Yesterday I ran into a former student who upon seeing me exclaimed, “You look great!” I thanked her even though she was probably just being polite. An elderly friend once told me there were four ages to life: youth, middle age, old age, and “You look great.” I’m now in the fourth stage. My wish for you is that you have a long lifespan and a long health-span, that you relish every day you have, spend time with people you love and value, let go of all the petty crap, wish no one ill (except perhaps Trump), and continue to fight for what’s good and noble and important. And regardless of your age, my thanks to you for joining me on this journey. (By the way, you look great.)